


I'll Take Care Of You

by kayla_desirae_collins



Category: Supernatural, The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: F/M, human!Cas, mention of Dean, mention of Metatron - Freeform, mention of Sam - Freeform, sick!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5792065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayla_desirae_collins/pseuds/kayla_desirae_collins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is new to the whole human experience and is still trying to get a grip on things. One morning, you wake up to find him sick. What is there to do besides take care of him? Its not like its a burden for you, you love him; you would do anything for him that would make him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Take Care Of You

It had been a few weeks since Cas had lost his grace. The brothers were trying their best to help get it back, but they seemed to have some problems of their own. Along the way, you did what you could, but most of the time they had you stay behind to keep the ex angel some company. Basically to watch over him. He had trouble understanding human concepts and responsibilities. Ranging from how we choose what clothing is appropriate every day, to how to brush your teeth, and even tying his shoes. The poor guy was helpless and very, very confused. Had it not been for you, who knows what would of happened by now.

You were in the kitchen, starting the coffee when you heard a set of sneezes. Being early in the morning and not expecting Cas to be up until around noon, you tip toed down the long hall way towards his room. Was he already up? It was really early, especially for you. Surely he wasn't awake right now. Cracking open his door, you peeked inside but it was dark as night. You could hear him breathing, but it seemed like he was having a little bit of a problem. Normally, you would ask for his permission to enter his area, but his gasping breaths worried you. Sliding through the door and closing it behind you, you moved over to his bed.

“Cas?” you questioned down at him. A deep rasping noise came from his mouth.

“I don’t feel so good,” he admitted. He didn’t even sound himself, clearly he was congested and his nose was stuffy.

“Im going to turn the light on, okay. Close your eyes,” you instructed. You couldn’t see him and if he sounded ill, you needed to give him a once over. If he had a fever, you would need to get it down. You twisted the bedside lamp on beside you and took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

His usually tanned skin appeared to be pail with a thin layer of sweat coating it; his body was shaking under his covers. Slipping your hand upon his forehead, you knew he was definitely running a fever. Your cool hand moved down his face to his cheeks and he seemed to relax into your touch. As if he found comfort in your presence. Of course, his eyes were still closed. The light beside him was exceptionally bright compared to the complete blackness that consumed his room prior to your visit.

“You’re sick,” you explained and removed your hand from his warm, heated face. His eyes opened at the loss of contact and stared into you with clear discomfort.  
“I’ll be right back,” you explained as you stood. As you turned, his hand slid into yours and you turned back to him. He let out a deep groan as he sat up a little, sniffling in the process. For a moment he acted as if he were about to sneeze, but nothing came of it.

“(y/n), please stay,” he pleaded. His throat bobbed slightly and his eyes closed showing his discomfort.

“Does your throat hurt?” you asked, your hand still in his. He nodded up at you and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.  
“Im going to go get you some medicine. I promise I won’t be long, and I will be right back,” you explained. He sighed as if your departure pained him but he nodded once more and released your hand. You exited his room and peeked back at him. He now rested his head back against the headboard, body still shaking from the chills. You felt bad for him. He already was dealing with so much, and now this? Making your way to the kitchen, you grabbed some medicine from the cabinets, a sprite you were saving to go with your alcohol, and the thermometer. You pulled a cup and a bowl down from the cabinet, retrieved a can of chicken noodle soup from the cupboard, and a pot from under the bar. Placing the soup into the pot to heat up, you filled the cup with ice and poured the sprite. There was a tray on the bar with a few things on it, but you cleared it off and placed the medicine, sprite, and some utensils onto it. It wasn't long before the soup was hot and you poured it into the bowl; adding it to the tray. You didn’t bother cleaning up, you had already been in here a while and Cas hadn’t wanted you to leave in the first place. Picking up the tray, you made your way back to his room; knocking before you went in.

“Here, take these,” you instructed him as you sat the tray down. He took them in his hand and watched you as you sorted the things out on the tray. You put the spoon on the napkin and arranged the drink to where he could eat and not knock it over. After it was set, your eyes focused on his staring figure and you suddenly became nervous under his gaze. It was then you noticed you were still in your pajamas; consisting of a spaghetti strap tank, a flannel over shirt that remained unbuttoned, and your boy shorts. His eyes traveled away from yours and moved down, taking you in. He continued to check you out and you didn’t know what to do, silence powering over you. You glanced around, thinking of what to do or say, when your eyes found the pills that remained in his hand.  
“Take your medicine, Castiel,” you demanded as you cleared your throat. You turned swiftly and made your way to the door.

“(y/n),” he called after you in his deeper than deep voice.

“When I get back, you better have taken them,” you threatened. Once you were out of his sight, a deep red blush consumed you. Had he really just checked you out… in the condition he is in? You shook your head and moved to your room to change. You slipped on a pair of fuzzy pajama pants and a sweatshirt. It was normal temperature in the bunker, but you covered as much skin as you could; Cas was sick and definitely not in his right mind. When you got back to his room, he watched you carefully; trying to grasp your current mood.

“(Y/n), I’m sorr-“ he began but you cut him off. He noticed immediately that you had changed clothes.

“Did you take the pills?” you questioned as you stood in front of him; arms crossed. His adams apple bobbed in his throat and he nodded his head; raising his hands to show the emptiness in them.  
“Good. Now you need to eat your soup before it gets cold. The sprite will help your temperature go down.”  
He tilted his head in confusion.

“Whats wrong with my temperature?” he asked curiously. You watched him for a moment, he was still shaky.

“You have a fever.” you answered. Moving over to his tray, you took the thermometer in your hands and turned it on. As you waited for it to load, you peered down at him. He was watching you intently, worry etching his features.

“Is that bad?” he pressed on. 

“Well, its not good,” you explained and placed it on his head. He moved slightly under it, making an error occur.  
“Be still,” your motherly side was out. Pressing it back on his forehead, you placed your other hand on the side of his face to keep him from moving. Seconds passed and it beeped. Pulling it away from him, you examined the results; 101.7 degrees.

“Whats wrong? Why did it do that? Am I dying? Did I break it?” he began asking question after question, his calm state had vanished.

“Cas,” you sat down on the edge again and replaced your hand to the side of his face.  
“Its okay. It beeped because it was done taking your temperature. Your not dying, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” you explained. His eyes searched yours for any hint of a lie, but he knew you wouldn’t lie to him, especially at a time like this. A small smile formed on your face, reassuring him that everything would be okay in the end. Your hand fell from his face, and like he had done earlier, he sighed at the loss of your contact. Turning to his tray, you lifted it up from the stand and placed it on his thighs.

“Eat your soup before its cold, hopefully it will help your temperature go down.” He shook his head in agreement and moved his fingers to grasp the spoon. He took a few bites, blowing it first before putting it in his mouth; something you had taught him to do a while back.

“What if it doesn’t? Help it go down, I mean.” he questioned between bites. He took another as he awaited your answer.

“Well first of all, once your done eating you’re going to have to take these covers off. Between doing that, the medicine, the soup and the sprite, it should go down. But if it doesn’t, I’m going to have to get you into the bath.” you answered. Swallowing his bite, he paused; spoon resting by the bowl, his eyes locked onto yours.  
“What?” you finally asked, why was he staring at you.

“You’re taking a bath with me?” he questioned bluntly with a straight face. Immediately following, your face turned into a furnace and you were left speechless. Somehow you found your words and remembered how to talk.

“No Cas, I’m not taking a bath with you,” you informed, the blush not leaving your face. His eyes fell and he began to smile ear to ear. He did that on purpose. The bastard knew what you meant the whole time; he was messing with you. Once everything clicked in your head, you punched him in the arm. He shot his eyes back up to you, the smirk never leaving his face and you laughed with him.  
“Nice one,” you admit, “Dean rubbing off on you?” You didn’t believe it was possible, but his smile grew before he sniffled once more. Shaking your head, you tilted it towards the soup bowl. He understood and it wasn't long before he finished, juice and all. He grabbed the sprite and downed most of it in the first motion.

“Thank you,” he added as he sat his cup down. You smiled up at him; a genuine smile, before standing to take the tray to place it back on the nightstand. Pushing your free hand through his hair, you ruffled it up and sat back down beside him. He scooted over a little to give you more room. Once your eyes met his, you lost yourself for a minute before you pulled yourself away.

“You’re welcome,” you explained as you examined the floor. His hand fell from his lap and his fingers traced yours that laid beside him. You stilled at his touch; it wasn't like Cas to show you affection, or anyone for that matter. Slowly, you slipped your hand away from his and placed it in your own lap.  
“Are you feeling any better?” He hesitated his response but eventually shook his head.

“I feel a little better, but I’m getting tired again,” he explained. You shook your head, acknowledging what he meant. You didn’t blame him. Although he was smiling and laughing with you, he was still ill and to be perfectly honest, he looked exhausted. 

“I’ll let you sleep then. Leave the blankets off, i’ll be back in a little bit to take your temperature again.” you stood and pulled the covers from him. He began to shiver more and looked between you and the comforter.  
“I mean it, keep them off,” you ordered as you took the tray from the stand. You left his drink and made your way to the kitchen. Cleaning up a little of the mess, you then searched the medicine cabinet for some airborne. It always helped prevent you from germs when either of the brothers were sick, hopefully they would work its magic and do the same now.

A while later, you went back to his room. Upon entering, you could hear him groaning, knowing very well he was trying his best to keep the blankets off like you told him. But he very much wanted to put them back on. He didn’t understand, he was cold but yet you told him to keep them off. He didn’t understand, but he didn’t question your motives; you seemed to know what you were talking about. Peeking through the crack, you saw he had laid back down into sleeping position. The lamp was still on beside him, but he turned away from it; curling into himself for warmth, he was still shaking. 

“Cas,” you called to him once you reached his bedside. He grunted in response to you, not bothering to turn. It was as if he was concentrating on just laying still.  
“Let me take your temperature.” He groaned at your request, but complied. He turned over, but he remained laying down. His eyes peering up at you as you turned on the thermometer and waited for it to load once more. Placing it on his forehead, you placed your other hand on the side of his face like you had done earlier. When it beeped, you pulled it away; Cas stayed calm this time. 101.1 degrees. It was coming down; slowly, but it was still decreasing.  
“Its coming down,” you told him, knowing he was waiting for a diagnosis. Your fingers ran through his scalp again and flustered his hair. He hummed at your motion and sighed when you let go.  
“If you need anything, i’ll be right down the hall in my room. I’ll be back again,” you informed and began to leave. His hand caught yours again.

“Will you stay with me?” he asked, almost pleadingly. Men could act absolutely helpless when they were sick, but you couldn't say no; especially not to Cas.

“If you want me to,” you answered. He nodded and scooted over for you to sit down. You rested your back against his headboard, your legs resting along the bed. Turning off the lamp, you felt him lay his head in your lap, the both of you now in the dark. It took a while and a bit of courage, but you finally wrapped your arms around the sick being. He sighed again, but it was a sigh of content; he felt better already with you here beside him.

“(y/n),” he mumbled. You responded with a humming sound from your voice.  
“Will you mess with my hair again?” You smiled down at him, knowing he couldn’t notice. Your hands traveled up to his scalp and began to massage. He began to hum again, almost as if compared to a cat purring. A few minutes went by before he spoke up again.

“(y/n),” he mumbled. You responded with the same humming sound.  
“Will you sing to me?” You huffed in response.

“I can’t sing,” you informed him. He grunted before he turned his face up towards yours. It was completely dark, but you could swear that you saw the glow that his blue eyes held.

“Yes you can,” he pushed.

“How do you know?” you giggled down at him. You felt more comfortable around him in the dark. He couldn’t stare into your soul and figure out all your secrets.

“I listen to you when you're in the shower. You can sing, I know you can. Will you please sing for me.” Good thing he couldn’t see the deep blush that consumed your face. He listened to you sing in the shower? When? For how long had he been doing so? You were lost in your thoughts, until he pulled you back.

“Please, just one song.” You couldn’t say no to him, he was your Cas. It was your job to take care of him and do anything and everything to make him happy and get him feeling better. 

“I suppose,” you agreed. You couldn’t see it, but you knew he had a smile plastered on his face as he laid his head back down, more on your stomach this time.  
“What do you want me to sing?”

“What Penny sings to Sheldon,” he explained. It kind of caught you off guard for a moment, until you realized what he was talking about.

“You watch the Big Bang Theory?” you asked with a surprised tone. He nodded his head, basically rubbing his head up and down your stomach a few times. You smiled again as you accepted the new information. You began rubbing his scalp again, playing with his hair and you began to sing. Softly at first, embarrassment and nerves getting to you. But if he had heard you sing in the shower, he had probably heard you at your worst.

“Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur. Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr, purr, purr.” You sang to him; you could tell he was smiling again and he relaxed more, cuddling closer to you. Cas was sick and he needed you. You were going to be there for him no matter what; no matter how long it took him to be one hundred percent again. If that meant laying with him in bed, singing little tunes, checking his temperature, making him soup, making sure he took his medicine, keeping the covers off, or even having to get him into the bath, you would do it for him. You would do it for your angel that you had so helplessly fallen in love with. You would do it for your Cas.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not taking credit for the song. Its just something that I thought would be cute.


End file.
